Unrequited(21)

She fidgeted awkwardly with her sketchbook. One finger fretted at the edge of the paper. I took this as a good sign. A girl who was indifferent wouldn’t be avoiding me.

"When did you stop being afraid of needles?" She finally broke the silence.

"That would be never, which is why I'm still a virgin, as Adam likes to call it."

"Then why are you here?"

"You know why." I wanted to reach over and take the sketchbook away so she was forced to look at me.

"But why me?" she asked softly. It was an unintentional echo of Adam's earlier question.

I laid it out as honestly as I could. "Because you make me happy, and I think, if you give me a chance, I could make you happy too. Both of us need that. I think we need each other."

She looked up then. There was a lot of emotion in her dark brown eyes. Most of it I couldn't comprehend, but the dark burn of need and want and hope shone through. "I'll think about it."

While I wanted a more concrete agreement, I didn't press her for more. "One of my crew members told me about a memorial tattoo."

"Oh, yes." She seemed surprised that I was here for a legitimate business purpose. "That's when you ink the ashes of a loved one into a tattoo."

"That's right. The grading subcontractor told me about it. He and his father have his grandfather's ashes tattooed into a gravestone on their upper arms." I rubbed the spot just below the shoulder. "It says ‘in memoriam’ and their last name."

"That's pretty cool. You want that?"

"No, I want you to design something."

"Can you tell me what ideas you have?"

"I will, but they're personal, and I'd rather share them with you outside of this place."

"You're relentless," she replied but couldn't completely hide her smile.

"It's true I haven't had to fight for a lot in my life. But that doesn't mean I don't know how."

She didn't answer immediately. I took the time to admire the graceful line of her neck, the sweet smell of her body wash or shampoo that reminded me of strawberry pie in the summer. I could wait indefinitely for her verbal answer because her body was already giving her away. The pulse at the side of her throat beat rapidly, and her breath quickened. The changes were minute and probably not obvious to anyone else, although our protracted silence did gain some attention.

"Is there a problem here?" Tucker was back and defending his territory.

"No problem. Just working out the finer details of my tattoo. A memorial design. My dad passed away over three months ago."

He looked skeptical but didn't want to call me out just in case I wasn't bullshitting. "Winter? Got any ideas?"

She flipped her notebook closed before everyone could see the blank sheet. "A few. Thanks for coming in, Mr. O'Malley. I'll email you when I have some preliminary sketches."

She stood and held out her hand. I took it and squeezed it, appreciating even that small bit of contact.

"I'll talk to you soon."

Outside Adam look shocked and awed. "Did you just use your dad's death as an excuse to get Winter to go out with you?"

"Maybe."

"That's amazing."

"I know."

"He'd be so proud."

"I know."





8





WINTER


Soon after Adam left, Tucker asked me to join him in the backroom. I agreed, but my stomach turned as he made the request, and I only felt more ill at ease when I sat.

"Bagel?" He pointed to the breakfast goodies he’d brought.

I shook my head. "Am I in trouble?"

"I don't know. Are you? How much money are you making on your freelance work?" He split open a bagel and slathered half a tub of cream cheese on top.

Designing tattoos wasn't my only job. I wouldn't be able to feed myself if it were. I did a whole host of freelance work, including logos, newsletter designs, and brochures. I even did T-shirt designs for a local indie shop. Mostly the T-shirts consisted of snappy sayings such as I'm not sure how many problems I have because math is one of them. The clientele was mostly teenagers.

"Enough," I answered truthfully. I could pay my bills. Admittedly, I wasn't getting ahead. I wouldn't be buying any new cars or going on vacation soon, but I could feed myself, cloth myself, and afford to put a roof over my head.

"You sure? Because I don't really see you as a Riskie's girl."

"I was filling in for my sister, and—wait, why am I not Riskie's material?" I felt offended even though I knew my body wasn’t worth paying to see. I was slender with not much upstairs and definitely a small ass.

"You're gorgeous, Winter, but not really stripper material. Besides," he paused to snicker, "you dance worse than Elaine on Seinfeld."